“All I want is someone who will stay, no matter how hard it is to be with me.”
Today’s story is from Julie Dinkens.
At 16, I boarded a bus. A dirty knapsack, a wad of ones. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. I couldn’t wait to get the heck out of that stiflingly small California town … and my home.
Days later, in Tennessee — I’d arrived at my “new home.” The plan? To become famous (but what did I know). In my teenage brain, it was a plan, perfectly laid, perfectly played.
Until… I got caught. The Tennessee fuzz picked me up. Drug me downtown. Threw me in juvenile hall. They knew. And I finally confessed. A runaway from way out West.
Yes, my cross-country jaunt was a first. But it was hardly the first time I’d run away. From the age of 12 my vanishing act was so fine-tuned it would give Houdini ideas on how to disappear. For weeks at a time, I’d surf between couches of friends and strangers. I was rebellious. I ran wild. I sometimes staggered over state lines. READ MORE